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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195980">Happiness is Not A Place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritch_beau/pseuds/eldritch_beau'>eldritch_beau</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, M/M, and yes ofc shadowgast bc we in this clown club 24/7 laid ease, its CR haitus as well so I have ideas lets go, jester and essek bffs in this bc I said so, look this is all about essek and his found family rights, post e-99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:48:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritch_beau/pseuds/eldritch_beau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>that found family fic that I thought Essek desperately needed</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Essek Thelyss &amp; The Mighty Nein, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre &amp; Essek Thelyss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happiness is Not A Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shame is a slithering thing. Not unfamiliar, no-- but it creeps through his veins and nestles against his chest where not long ago something warmer had made its home. He cannot raise his gaze to meet theirs anymore.</p><p>“Make no mistake, we do not trust you” Caleb’s voice is cutting in it’s clarity and he feels its jagged edges sink into his skin, “doesn’t mean we don’t hope for you.”</p><p>There is a coldness to the way Caleb says it, maybe even a veiled threat.<em> But it is well deserved,</em> Essek thinks as he bows his head, the same swirling shame washing over him and he purses his lips and nods.</p><p>They let him go.</p><p>They <em> let him go </em>and the weight of their mercy feels heavier than his gilded mantle, than all of his sins combined.</p><p>—</p><p>But guilt? Guilt is an altogether unfamiliar feeling. He has done far much and far worse to feel it over something that his mother would call so trivial. Guilt has never felt like this. Not like invisible palms wrapping around his neck and robbing him of his ability to breathe. He loosens his collar and seats himself against the foot of his bed. Here aboard Wind of Eons, the finest in the Assembly’s armada, he should be feeling some semblance of pride at least, something in the nature of accomplishment for ending the war. In three days he will have his research, he will be able to further explore the truth behind the beacons that have the Dynasty so blinded in their worship— he will have progress in his quest for knowledge and he will be closer to exposing the luxon for a false god if that’s what it is, <em>whatever</em> it is he will know— his should feel good about this, he should feel good about this, he shoul— </p><p>Absentminded fingers seek his forehead, coming to rest upon that point between his brows where Caleb had planted his lips with a touch of anger and perhaps something approaching a promise. It still burns in the memory of the wizard’s warm lips. His offer of ‘redemption.’ Essek lets out a haggard breath. Thinks of Jester’s message that night, checking up on him. Thinks of the sharpness in Caleb’s eyes when Trent was mentioned. Thinks of the way Veth asked if his friendship with them was pretense too. Thinks of the way Caduceus’ voice sounded when he accepted Essek’s apology — the sincerity of which he has done nothing to deserve. Hearing it aloud had made him wish, ever so childishly, for some kind of exoneration that he cannot have; and again, that pain in his chest flares.</p><p>The grasp around his throat seems to tighten almost like a noose.</p><p>—</p><p>The peace talks go well, it all goes well but the itch at the nape of Essek’s neck doesn’t subside. Maybe it’s the way Beau is staring at him. Or maybe it’s the way Veth shook her head in what she thought was subtlety when Jester was about to tell him… something. Caleb is stiff.. Indecipherable as ever.</p><p><em> Shoulders back. Spine straight. Chin forward. </em> He can hear his old tutor’s voice disapproving as he pulls himself up. <em> Smile. </em> It doesn’t feel right, this one that he paints for the world; pretending in front of these people that he has come to call <em> his friends. </em> But Essek has had a lot of practice.</p><p>They bid their goodbyes and it is a strange soft of parting, something hollow in his chest. Like he is now an unwelcome intruder in their den. </p><p><em> Ah. </em> Very well.</p><p><em>This is all my fault,</em> he thinks as his hands are alive with magic and he finds himself suddenly nostalgic for the times when they used to be so happy to see him, when they let him stay for dinner,  when they came over the next morning, when they <em> liked </em> him: “Happy days” he says and works hard to hide that wistfulness in his voice. Only hopes the noise of teleportation magic had masked it enough.</p><p>When he arrives at his own tower, it's quiet. Lonely. Cavernous.</p><p>The heaviness settles even heavier in his chest.</p><p>—</p><p>It isn’t very hard to find out where Yeza Bernatto has bought a house on the coast of Nicodranas. He hadn’t thought of the halfling man in a while but the shake of Veth’s head is a haunting thing. Like Caleb’s forced, polite smile. Tight at the eyes. He walks by his lavatory and remembers the brightness in the way Caleb had hugged him— talked so highly of him it left him stunned. It aches and Essek feels a greedy need to have that back again, to make some kind of amends, anything.</p><p>It is with (surprisingly) shaking hands that he writes the letter. Doesn’t sign it.</p><p>The next day there’s a sizable chest of alchemical supplies and a thousand platinum delivered to Yeza Bernatto’s residence. There's a note that reads:</p><p>
  <em>“My apologies would fall short but I am still, very sorry. I know this does not fix anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I hope it's some small compensation.”</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Of course losing track of time while working is a habit hard to grow out of. But he tries. There’s this quiet hour between leaving the Bastion and getting home, where he passes by the Xhorhaus. Looks up at the tree, bright and quiet and… warm.</p><p>In a moment of recklessness it takes just one invisibility spell to float himself up to the terrace. It’s a quiet comfort, dropping the levitation and sitting at its root. Admiring. Perhaps it’s a little pathetic that he finds himself spending more time here these days, even with his books. He feels like a thief again, stealing these moments from the Nein, a family he can never have now that they know what he’s done.</p><p>But the lingering warmth of their empty house is still<em> something. </em></p><p>—</p><p>There’s another careless habit he’s developed instead. Stacking his house with a few pastries. Cupcakes to be precise. </p><p>
  <em> Just in case.  </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>It hadn’t occurred to him, not<em> here </em> at least. Not this place that’s the closest he can think of as holy, where he can lean his head back against the trunk and inhale the soft scent of the swaying breeze. Not this place where he can close his eyes and let go for just a moment. And perhaps rest. It hadn’t occurred to him that all this while when he was busy tying up all the loose ends, he had perhaps become one as well.</p><p>It’s a sharp stab to his side that catches him unawares, and it flares. Flares into a blinding pain that he knows is poison, knows will kill him if he doesn— if he doesn’t—</p><p>Inked arms exert swift blows against his head, a stunning spell— and his vision is going, he is losing, if he freezes now he's dead for good— Essek blinks wildly, barely shaking off the stun and directing a gravity sinkhole drawn from his side and thrown to the opposite end of the terrace. He is vaguely aware of a humanoid person being pulled towards it’s center, arms flailing and he knows this is his only chance, only chance before he—</p><p>With shaking hands he traces the only spell he can think of, and pictures the only other place he’s ever felt safe.</p><p>He isn’t even sure if it succeeds, before he collapses.</p><p>—</p><p>Voices are muffled when he comes to. Noise swarming in through a haze of static. He must’ve hit his head pretty bad.</p><p>Essek grunts, squinting through his heavy eyelids to find Jester’s wide eyes peering down at him.</p><p>“Oh thank god!” Her relief is palpable as she bends down and immediately pulls him into a strong hug. Essek is distantly aware of steady palms against his abdomen slipping away just then.</p><p>“Jester, give the man some air.” Fjord’s voice seems to come from somewhere in the periphery but Jester doesn’t let go.</p><p>“We thought—” she sounds so relieved it tugs at something in Essek’s heart, “we thought it was too late but thank god! Thank god you’re okay, Essek!”</p><p>“Did I ...die?” his mouth feels like sandpaper.</p><p>“Not die, not yet…” Caduceus nods, gently wrapping Essek’s palm around a waterskin filled to the brim, “but it was pretty close.”</p><p>It all feels like a blur.</p><p>“Are you all alright?” his voice sounds so weak he’s glad his mother isn’t here to hear it, “nothing followed me here?”</p><p>“We’re all fine, Essek! <em> You’re </em> the one who almost died, geez!” Jester continues, helping him sit up and for the first time he starts to take in his surroundings.</p><p>“Where am I? Are we on…?”</p><p>“The Balleater” Beau interjects, with a jut of her chin. Her eyes come to rest on his abdomen and Essek’s own follow her gaze. There’s a big patch of dark red in the slit fabric there. When he touches, it comes away wet with his own blood. Along with it comes the memory of pain. He winces.</p><p>“What happened to you, Essek?” Beau’s voice is stern, curious. He doesn’t blame her for being suspicious still.</p><p>“I was...” Essek shakes his head, only to find that even the slightest movement seems to make him dizzy, “I didn’t know where else to go.”</p><p>“Were you attacked?”</p><p>Essek turns to answer Fjord only to find his eyes latching onto Caleb, who hasn’t spoken; but he fixes Essek with an impenetrable gaze. He sits cross-legged on the floor to Essek’s left, much closer than he would’ve thought. His hands are stained the same dark red of Essek’s robes and they remain limp in his lap.</p><p>Essek tries to not let his eyes linger. “It was an assassin.” he admits, “I was stupid, I let my guard down. I...” Essek sighs.</p><p>“Where were you when this happened?”</p><p>How does he admit this with seven sets of curious eyes staring at him with anticipation and perhaps even suspicion. Essek sighs. He can’t really tell the truth now, can he? That he was sitting like a fool on the top of their house, lingering where they had been just for a touch of— Beau is staring at him almost as if she <em> will </em>know if he lies.</p><p>“Home. I was.. home.” he says and it surprises him how true it is, “I was resting. They caught me unawares.”</p><p>“How many of them were there?” Veth asks.</p><p>“Just one, I think.”</p><p>Fjord clears his throat, “Was it the… Bright Queen who ordered the hit or...”</p><p>“I don’t think it was.” She isn’t aware of his betrayal, more than happy to have her beacon back as she is. He would have lost his head by now if she had any inkling.</p><p>“It was the Assembly,” Caleb says for the first time, voice low and sure, a quiet sort of rage in his eyes, “wasn’t it?”</p><p>Essek can’t do much but bow his head and nod feebly. It’s creeping up on him, that in coming here, he has endangered them all. Tied them intrinsically to his tangled web. Foolish, it was so foolish. To think that he was escaping from danger and instead brought danger to the very place where he is vulnerable. That he could make his friends bleed just by association— that his own twisted need for companionship could cause collateral damage to the only people he’s <em> ever </em>cared about— </p><p>Essek breathes out shakily, “I have to go.”</p><p>—</p><p>This time however, they do <em> not </em> let him go. Caduceus puts an insistent palm on his shoulder, noting that he is in no shape to leave and while he can tell Beau and Veth’s are uncomfortable over the decision, Essek’s protests are cut off by their wizard who seems to have a final say in this.</p><p>“It would do you well to… rest here.” Caleb says, voice still tight in what Essek can only assume is disappointment, “tomorrow we can, uh. Talk about this.”</p><p>With something akin to an alarming swiftness, Caleb undoes the scarf from around his neck and shoves it into Essek’s hands. “Here,” he says, “c-clean yourself up. And don’t” and it’s only then he meets Essek’s gaze and holds it, “<em> don’t </em>run away.” </p><p>—</p><p>There’s no point pretending he can’t overhear the argument they’re having on the deck. The danger he’s putting them in, simply by being here. By having nowhere else to go. It’s a harrowing sort of wait, the judgement of it all. Not undeserved, no— perhaps still the kindest he has received of them all. But it is that fear of rejection that gnaws at him still.</p><p><em> Twice </em> he considers casting teleportation and <em> twice </em> he stops short; realizes he is still holding Caleb’s scarf in the other hand. Essek lets the spell fade.</p><p>He waits.</p><p>—</p><p>They reach something of a mutual agreement.“You could be an asset to us,” Caleb says during that discussion, “and we could be an asset to you. Help us overthrow the Assembly.” and something inside Essek’s chest has shrunk just a little bit. The smile he puts on feels fraying around the edges. </p><p>An<em> asset. </em> Of course.</p><p>“Very well, then." Essek nods, "Will I be allowed to... stay?"</p><p>"Yeah." Fjord nods back and Veth adds, "for now."</p><p><em>For now.</em> "Thank you...” Essek had said, trying to ease some of the tension (since when does he do that?) “for… not throwing me overboard.” he glances around the room and adds, “Y<em>et. </em>”</p><p>Maybe it wasn't as funny as he thought it was, but Caduceus smiles warmly at him and the knot in his heart eases just a little.</p><p>—</p><p>“I brought you these.” Jester finds him later that night, long after the rest of the Nein have gone to bed. He is alone on the deck, quietly admiring the sea and musing about this peculiar situation he’s gotten himself into.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>She puts down folded clothes next to him and picks up a faded purple tunic, “I thought you might like this one!” and she picks up a green cloak from the pile, “you can match it with this and you’ll look <em>so</em> <em>handsome, </em>Essek!”</p><p>The green is a vivid and bright, even in the dark but it's hard to turn Jester down when she’s making that face, especially when she’s been one of the prime reasons he’s still allowed to be on this boat. </p><p>“We can mend your torn clothes tomorrow,” she continues, “so you can wear these for now.”</p><p>“Thank you, Jester.” Essek softens, “but I’m quite alright.” He doesn’t want to owe the Nein any more than he already does.</p><p>“Oh” her face falls and a sudden sort of panic starts to nag at the base of his skull. </p><p>“It’s a very nice cloak!” Essek says, trying to compensate, “it's very… green. It’ll suit you much better than it’ll suit me, I assure you.”</p><p>Jester only nods, “okay” she says and is about to go back the way she came when Essek jumps on his impulse and speaks anyway.</p><p>“J-jester!” his voice seems to have gone even smaller somehow, “I— I wanted to say, thank you. For everything. For… vouching for me. And… being my friend. You have been very kind and,” He smiles at her and it’s a first smile in a long while that takes no effort at all, “I just.. want to <em> thank you. </em> For everything.”</p><p>“Really?” Jester’s voice sounds so fragile in that moment and Essek isn’t sure what prompts him but he has no time to regret it. He bends down just low enough— (strange how he hasn’t levitated even<em> once </em>since he’s been on the boat)— and tentatively wraps his arms around her, unsure still. </p><p>“Really.” he says and it’s so odd, this new warmth of affection, this new habit of <em> meaning </em> things when you say them. He thinks he likes it.</p><p>Jester’s strong arms are around him in a split second and she pulls Essek into a hug that makes his eyes water. He could say it’s <em>only</em> from how much Jester’s crushing his ribs but that's a lie and he knows it.</p><p>“Thank you Essek,” her voice sounds perhaps only a little lighter, but to Essek it seems to carry significant weight, “thank you for saying that.”</p><p>He nods, for if he tries to speak, his voice might break and then that would be very embarrassing.</p><p>“You really don’t want to try it on? It’s really warm out here so you’ll get <em> toasty </em> in those full-sleeves!” she prompts again and maybe she is right, Essek’s been sweating in these anyway.</p><p>“Try it on!” She nudges and he would probably have been more reluctant if not for the fact that she is <em>immensely</em> persuasive. And he wonders if he would even have <em> any </em> of these friendships if she weren’t half as persuasive as she is— and whatever sliver of resolve he was holding on to dissolves instantly.</p><p>“Alright.” he finds himself saying and Jester’s eyes light up, “...right now?”</p><p>“Right now! Yes!” she encourages, clapping her hands in excitement and Essek thinks no one has ever looked <em> so happy </em> to see him do anything so utterly mundane before.</p><p>“Alright!” he breathes, suddenly full of purpose and he isn’t thinking of anything at all as he changes into the loose tunic and more breathable trousers and putting his boots back on and he isn’t self-conscious until he’s at the threshold of the deck, suddenly worried if Jester would approve, worried if he will live up to Jester’s expectation of how good he should look in whatever he is wearing.</p><p>Essek swallows and peeks through the door headfirst only to find Jester’s eyes widening in excitement as she spots him.</p><p>“Essek! Come out here!” she rushes forward towards him, pulling him out into the deck and gasping.</p><p>“Is it bad? Should I change back?” he didn’t think he had a habit of rambling before but he’s discovered <em> a lot </em> of new things about himself in the last couple of months, “Should I lace up the tunic? I should, shouldn’t I?” and he can feel himself grimacing but Jester gently smacks his hands away.</p><p>“No no leave them!” she says, “just! As! They! are!” and looks at him with such a genuine admiration that he isn’t sure how to respond, especially with his throat feeling so tight.</p><p>“oHmyGOsh, Essek!!” she says, her voice ripe with that inflection of mischief, “you look <em> so good, </em> y’know!!” And then she wiggles her left eyebrow with what can be no good intention— “and Cayleb is going to <em> faint </em> when he sees you, he’s gonna be like ‘oh Essek is so hot!’” she enacts in a terrible Zemnian accent, full with the back of her wrist to her forehead, “and then he’ll <em> kiss </em>you, again!”</p><p>He can feel his face heat up, the panic starting to set in full force because how could he form any correct response to <em> that? </em></p><p>“It’s not…” Essek barely chokes out, “it’s not like that.”</p><p>Jester gives him an exaggerated wink, “<em> suuure </em>” she says, “it’s like… smooshing booties.”</p><p>Essek sighs and against his better judgement, asks <em> still</em>, “what is… smooshing booties?”</p><p>“You<em> know!! </em>” Jester waggles eyebrows suggestively, “when you love each other you smoosh booties, you knooooow what I’m talking about!”</p><p>“Caleb doesn’t love me.” Essek corrects, shaking his head and it <em> almost </em> feels like an admittance. <em> Caleb </em> doesn’t, he knows for sure: especially not after all this, he can't. But. But Essek— </p><p>“Oh he <em> definitely </em> likes you!” Jester continues, unfazed, “when you were bleeding so badly— he held you and he was so scared— we <em> all </em>were, but I think he was scared the most.” Jester’s voice seems to have lost all teasing and exaggeration somewhere through that sentence, “he cares about you, Essek. We all do.” She smiles at him, “please don't lie to us again.”</p><p>Essek nods, looking out over the sea in what feels like a futile attempt at hiding himself. He isn’t much a man of his word, not in the habit of giving it; but to Jester, to the Nein, it feels worth being spoken aloud.</p><p>“I won’t." Essek says, braving the unfamiliar waters of friendship, "I<em> promise </em>.”</p><p>—</p><p>The weather is hot. It is hot and exhausting and Caleb hasn't said much yet, hasn't even asked for his scarf back. And Essek feels disappointment as strongly as he feels the relief. What do you say to someone whose trust you betrayed? What do you say when they hold you almost like they could believe in you? When it feels like there is so much to talk about that you wouldn't know what to say at all? Or where to draw the line? It's something like that with Caleb, something unspoken that he doesn't know what to do with. Fears that if he does, he will break this silent treaty that feels <em>safe</em> even if it's bursting at the seams with everything they aren't saying. He notices Caleb on his way down the deck, peering at him over the edge of his book. Bright blue eyes turned even brighter in the blue of the sea and it thumps something in Essek's heart, a restless sort of pull that lodges in his throat and robs him of his ability to speak.</p><p>Essek purses his lips. Gives a small nod and watches carefully as something in Caleb's demeanor shifts, if only just a little. The tightness around Caleb's eyes morphs into the slightest of smiles as Caleb too, nods back.<em> It doesn't mean anything,</em> Essek thinks as the stairs take him further into the comforting dark, <em>it doesn't mean anything at all</em> and if he thought he saw Caleb's eyes trail down the length of his neck... he is convinced that it was perhaps only just his imagination.</p><p>Jester, however is an unrelenting force of nature. “He was checking you out, he was totally checking you out!” she whispers conspiratorially to Essek when they are both below deck, gathering supplies after breakfast. “And this…” she points at where the tunic lies unlaced against his chest, “is totally <em> woooorking!! </em>”</p><p>“Jester, I am not doing it—”</p><p>“Shhhhhhh!!” she shushes him urgently, shoving some more supplies into his arms, “accept. the<em> gifts. </em> of the traveler, my child. Now WHERE is the big ladle that caduceus mentioned??” </p><p>—</p><p>“it’s really nice” Caduceus says, giving him a once-over before going back to stirring the pot of morning breakfast, “fits the weather and whadda know, it fits you too.”</p><p>The tunic is ill-fitting, made to suit someone built far more sturdier than Essek, and what Caduceus said should technically be a lie. But his words seems to soothe an age-old residual ache in his chest.The smile that comes to his face is involuntary. </p><p><em>“It fits”</em> Caduceus says, so simply and maybe it's the way the breeze feels against his hair, or the salt-water feels against his skin... but perhaps for the first time in his life, Essek <em>believes</em> it.</p><p>—</p>
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